


face the sea, cast a wish.

by oblivoid



Category: Shadowhunters, The Mortal Instruments
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblivoid/pseuds/oblivoid
Summary: alec touches a statue.inspired by writing prompts!





	face the sea, cast a wish.

“I’m not holding hands with a statue, Izzy!”

“For God and our Aunt Eve’s sake, just grab the damn hand!”

“It’s a _statue!_ I don’t care how much you believe in love, there is _no goddamn way a statue is going to become a human after I hold its hand!_ ”

“Alec, you can be cynical _after_ I snap the picture.”

Alec crossed his arms, shifting his glare from Izzy to the statue. It was a the size of a human being, the man’s hand outstretched as his body bent over, his ivory face tilted upward, a smile playing on his lips. Robes that seemed at have gone out of fashion in the eighties fanned across his legs, rings adorning every inch of his finger from knuckle to tip. A sharp, long ring was worn on his still waiting hand, and even with the glaring sun Alec could see the swooping eyeliner that decorated the man’s downtilted eyes, an expression of serenity and coyness, frozen in time, a frame taken out from memories. Rumour had it that if the soulmate of the man touched his hand, he would once again become a living, breathing human man.

He frowned once more. It seemed to be the eighth time that evening.

Izzy seemed to sense Alec’s distaste, and pleaded, “Come on. It’s not like those girls have any more chance than you do.”

“I don’t want a chance, Izzy,” Alec said flatly as he scowled at the bunch of giggling girls that took turns to touch the statue’s hands, taking a bunch of pictures and selfies. “It’s a statue carved of cement and plaster.”

The statue did not turn back into a man.

But that was simple logic which Alec did not feel like explaining to Izzy.

Instead, he grabbed the phone and her hand, earning a squawk of outrage as he hauled them both to the statue’s pedestal.

Izzy instantly reached for the statue’s hand.

Alec groaned. He looked at the statue’s engraving while Izzy was marveling over “how real the statue’s hand felt” and “the craftsmanship! Simply delightful!” and ran a finger over the name of the statue, presumably. _“Magnus Bane”,_ it had read. Alec wanted to use a Sharpie to scrawl on “Master of good looks, summoner of teenage girls.” The statue, with its good looks and coy smile, had charmed people across the world, both boys and girls alike, to hold its hand and take pictures.

Instead, he tripped.

Alec Lightwood tripped over his own goddamn legs.

He flung a hand out desperately, seeking any sort of surface for him to clutch onto. Instead, he found his hand in the statue’s.

_It really does feel like a real hand._

Alec is going crazy, he’s not okay, he’s a fucking idiot.

And then the statue fell on him.

* * *

 

Alec felt his back slam into the floor, and squinted up at the pedestal.

The _empty_ pedestal.

Instead, a man lay sprawled on top of him, scrambling up immediately. Alec watched as the statue looked at him, wide-eyed. The _statue,_ now a _man._

Alec hated himself so much in that moment, more than he did when he tripped in front of the principal receiving a prize in second grade.

The man looked at him, lashes long and thick, accentuated by the blue eyeshadow that coated his eyelids, his dark eyes confused. His robes now crumpled, Alec pushed him off his body.

He stood up, heat spreading across his cheeks, and surveyed the crowd. Most of them were staring at the empty pedestal, confused, but some, like his dear, lovely sister, Isabelle, was staring agape at him and the man, who was now beside him, dusting down some invisible lint. He was tall, but slightly shorter than Alec, his shoulders straight, his head slightly tilted upwards.

He turned toward Alec and bowed, to his shock. “Thank you for freeing me,” The man--Magnus Bane, said.

“How long have you been a statue?” Alec asked curiously. If he was going to have a statue as a soulmate, he would know as much as he could.

“I have no clue. What year is it?”

“2019.”

“Oh,” Magnus said. “Oh no.”

**Author's Note:**

> a little crack fic i wrote in a day and a half! again, u can find me on @lightwcodbanes. due to the feedback i've received, i'll be putting a hold on ringfic and writing the second chapter of this! you can tag it on twitter with #FTSCAW


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